To Be Determined
by LoonyLuna
Summary: A story of the rest of Harry's school carrer, his love life, careers, and all sorts of surprises along the way. H/Hr and Ron/Luna. MAJOR OotP spoliers


Hi!  
  
Welcome to To Be Determined. Yes, that IS the stories title.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Deal with it. I have to.  
  
Anywho- I'll write more at the bottom  
  
ON WITH THE FIC!!!  
  
To Be Determined  
  
Most Harry could think about was how stupid this was.  
  
He had gone against Voldermort five times and lived, but he was not strong enough not to come home. He knew it was for his safety. He knew why Dumbuldor did this to him. He just thought it stupid.  
  
He should be staying at the Burrow with the Weasleys, or at Hermione's, or at the House of Black with Sirius.  
  
At the thought of Sirius, Harry stopped eating his toast that was put on his plate before him. There was no Sirius, anymore. No godfather, no family for Harry to speak of. Except the three in front of him.  
  
The Dursleys. Which, in Harry's opinion, were the most boring set of Muggles you could find anywhere. Vernon Dursley sat at the head of the table, reading his paper. He sold drills for a living. Dudley Dursley was across from Harry. There he sat, talking smugly about how he became champion of the British Boxing league in his age and weight group last year at Smeltings. Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen, making more bacon for two very oversized men that she called her husband and son.  
  
Harry stared at her. She was the only one that had treated Harry differently since the summer began. She was the one that knew of some of the wizarding community. She knew of Dementors. She even got a Howler the night he had saved Dudley from the Dementor. She had been considerably nicer to Harry since that incident. Harry knew not why.  
  
He was about to ask her about it when Petunia looked at the calendar.  
  
"Oh, look, it's July 31st," she said while still looking at the Calendar. Harry knew not to get his hopes up about the Dursleys remembering his birthday. They never did. Petunia turned to look at the men sitting at the table, "Happy Birthday, Harry."  
  
Harry was in shock. Never in his fifteen years at the Dursleys was his birthday ever remembered. If it were it would be shook off as an annoyance. The only birthday that was ever remembered was his eighth, were he reminded them. He got a pair of old socks.  
  
"What did you say?" Harry asked slowly and carefully.  
  
"Happy Birthday Harry." Petunia said at the same tone Harry had.  
  
Vernon looked from Petunia to Harry then back again to Petunia.  
  
"Petunia, darling, what do you mean?" he asked.  
  
"I mean, Harry turns sixteen today, Vernon. We should do something for him."  
  
Vernon looked flabbergasted.  
  
Dudley looked back and fourth between his parents rapidly.  
  
Harry was very still. His mind was frozen from the 'Happy Birthday." He had replayed the last three minutes over in his head very quickly. 'Do something for him' seemed to hit him hard when he thought of the phase. The most the Dursleys had ever 'done for him' was to 'take him in'.  
  
Then the idea hit him.  
  
"Do you think I could get to use the telephone?" Harry asked slowly.  
  
"The telephone? Who at YOUR school would call YOU?" Vernon asked very harshly.  
  
"Oh, someone . . ."  
  
Harry thought back to last night, when he had gotten a card from Hermione.  
  
((Hey-  
  
Hi! Happy Birthday!  
  
Love,  
  
Hermione))  
  
Short and to the point, Harry thought. Just the way he liked. Hermione knew what Harry liked when he's being told important things.  
  
((P.S. Call me when the Dursleys leave the house sometime. 555-6224))  
  
He doubted that if the Dursleys left him alone in the house, they'd leave his lock on his door unlocked.  
  
"I don't think it would hurt anything, Vernon." Petunia said.  
  
Harry looked at his Aunt curiously for the second time that morning. Why was she being so nice to him?  
  
His eyes narrowed.  
  
"Mum!" Dudley shouted. "He's got that look on face. W-when he's a-about to d-do m-m-m-magi-ic! When, h-he uses his . . . t-thing!"  
  
"THAT'S IT! HARRY! UP TO YOUR ROOM!"  
  
"What did I do?"  
  
"You were going to do magic on Petunia!"  
  
"He was not," Petunia said going back to the bacon.  
  
Harry was officially confused.  
  
"What is going on?" Harry asked. "Why, after fifteen years, do you remember my birthday? Why are you on MY side? Why are you being so nice to me? Why did you get that Howler last year, and who was it from? On that note, how do you know about Demetors and the story of Voldermort?"  
  
Everyone went quiet. Vernon's fork clattering on his plate echoed in the house on Privet Drive, for Harry had said the most he had all summer, combined.  
  
Slowly Petunia brought her head up and looked at Harry. "Why not?"  
  
"Because you're a Muggle!"  
  
"Maybe, but I did have a sister that grew up in your world. I was the one she always wrote home to. She told me everything that happened to her. I got a lot from your world from her letters." Petunia took a raggedy breath, "As for the Howler, It was from Professor Dumbuldor."  
  
"But . . ."  
  
"I don't know why, it just made me change my mind about you." She turned to get the bacon off the stove. "And yes, you can use the telephone."  
  
"PETUNIA, I think we should talk about this . . ."  
  
"No 'buts', Vernon." She turned to Harry. "You can use the phone in our room, if you want to call someone now."  
  
Harry stayed where he was. He kept looking from Vernon to Petunia for some sign that he was dreaming. He even pinched himself to make sure he was awake. He decided to just stare at the empty space in front of him. He was in a trance.  
  
"HARRY!" Dudley shouted at him from across the table.  
  
Harry blinked, slowly tuned his head to look at Dudley and asked, "What?"  
  
"You can go . . . " Petunia said.  
  
"Oh . . ."  
  
Then Harry climbed the steps as he heard the sounds of an argument start. Aunt Petunia was saying, 'he needs to be noticed,' and Vernon was saying, 'we've been trying to do the opposite since we took him in.'  
  
Harry didn't care. He at least got one phone call to Hermione.  
  
He stopped at his room to get her letter from the night before, before heading off to his Aunt and Uncle's room.  
  
He opened the door to the room. Most of the things were light green and brown. It reminded Harry of vomit. He had only remembered being in here once, when he was around four and ran in here because he had a nightmare. That's when he realized that if he ever cried out in the middle of the night, no one would ever come.  
  
The phone was sitting on the bedside table. Harry pulled up a chair and picked up the phone off of its cradle.  
  
He looked at his birthday card and then dialed the number.  
  
It rung twice when someone picked up.  
  
"Hello, the Granger residence." A man said from the other side of the phone.  
  
"Um . . ." Harry started, "Is Hermione there?"  
  
"Look, if this is that Krum fella, forget it. She already said no. And if you call here again I'll tell her to write to her Ministry for harass-"  
  
"Mr. Granger!" Harry cut in, "I'm not Krum, I'm Harry. Harry Potter."  
  
"Oh! I'm so sorry. I thought you were that Krum guy. Oh, one of these days."  
  
Harry laughed, "T know what you mean. Um . . ."  
  
"Hermione, right."  
  
"Thank-you."  
  
Harry waited as Mr. Granger called to Hermione, saying she had a phone call, and she argued back and said she was reading. Then he told her it was Harry, she was there in a second.  
  
"Harry! Hi!"  
  
"Hi, Hermione."  
  
"I thought it was another phone call from Victor."  
  
"What's he doing?"  
  
"He somehow got my number and has been calling non-stop for weeks. At least twice a day."  
  
"Has he got your name right, yet?"  
  
"No," she said with a laugh.  
  
"Then you'll know it's me when I say 'Hermione'."  
  
Hermione laughed at the other end of the conversation.  
  
"I sent Hedwig back with your card, I have your present here, I forgot to send it. I didn't realize that the Dursleys were out and about nine o'clock on a Saturday morning. How did you get to call so soon?"  
  
"It was my birthday gift."  
  
"What?" Hermione cut, "I thought you said that the Dursleys always forgot your birthday."  
  
"They do. But Petunia wished me a happy birthday and asked what I wanted to do that was special. I asked for phone privileges. Though you are the only number that I know, so . . ."  
  
"Thanks Harry."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Using your birthday wish on me."  
  
Harry and Hermione talked until Hermione's mother said she needed to get off the phone and eat some dinner. The Dursleys saw Harry come though the kitchen door and sit down to eat dinner with them.  
  
"Where have you been all day?" Vernon snapped.  
  
"On the phone." Harry answered.  
  
"See, Petunia? Our bill is going to go up if the talks all day long."  
  
"Oh, boo-hoo, he's here for another month then he'd gone." She argued back.  
  
"Actually, it might be shorter than that." Harry said, picking up the smallest piece of chicken.  
  
"Really now?" Vernon asked curiously, "What'd he say?"  
  
"SHE said that a friend of ours was asking if she could stay the rest of the summer with him and said he was going to ask you if I could too. I'll be getting an owl soon. Hermione sent Pig after a night's rest. His house is quite a ways from here."  
  
"Who is Hermione, and what is Pig?" Vernon asked.  
  
Once again, Harry found it strange that he was sitting in the Dursley's kitchen and having a conversation about the wizarding world with people that despised magic more than Harry despised Voldermort himself.  
  
"Hermione is one of my best friends, and Pig is my other best friend's owl."  
  
"Who would name their owl 'Pig'?" Petunia said from the refrigerator.  
  
"His little sister," Harry said shortly.  
  
The rest of the family decided that that was the end of the evening's conversation. Dudley had excused himself and had started his daily rounds around the neighborhood to beat up anything that happened to get in his way. Vernon had retreated to the living room, where he had turned on the evening news. (He had specifically said that Harry could NOT join him.)  
  
Petunia, on the other hand, had stayed in the kitchen with Harry. Harry sat at the bar surrounding the kitchen sink and tried to listen to the news.  
  
"Why the sudden interest in Muggle news lately, Harry?" Petunia asked as she put a pan in the washer.  
  
"Huh?" Harry started, "I don't know, I just like it."  
  
Nothing more was said as Petunia put the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher.  
  
"I have something for you, Harry . . ." Petunia trailed as she opened the refrigerator.  
  
"The 'Happy Birthday and the phone privileges where good enough." Harry said from his seat, "Thank-you."  
  
"Ah . . . It's your birthday. Everyone should be happy on his or her birthday," She said as she handed Harry a blue bowl.  
  
"What's this?" Harry asked.  
  
Petunia handed him a spoon.  
  
"Butterscotch pudding. It's instant, mind you."  
  
Harry looked up at his Aunt. For the first time in fifteen years, she was smiling a genuine smile at him.  
  
Harry picked up the spoon and took a bite of the creamy substance.  
  
For the first time in fifteen years, he had the closest thing to a birthday party he had ever had.  
  
So, how'd you like it?  
  
I have this thing about needing five GOOD reviews to continue.  
  
I hope I get good reviews. I've been working on this for quite awhile.  
  
This story lasts a long time. Harry's school, love life, careers, and if I say more, I'd ruin some of the better surprises.  
  
Please review 


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